Holding Flames
by sparksflying
Summary: Peeta's POV for Catching Fire. From the author of Flying Sparks. Rated T for violence, mild language and adult content.
1. Part I: The Distance

Holding Flames

**Part I: The Distance**

**(1)**

When she lets go of my hand, when the cheering crowds have been shut out by the walls of the train, I know I've lost her. For six whole months, I can't expect Katniss Everdeen to even look at me. A fury is building inside of me. It starts at the core of my heart. I thought that she really cared about me, but what I've learned only minutes before is so contradictory from what I want. She never really loved me. In fact, she only kissed me for food. Apparently Haymitch had been coaching her to pretend we were star-crossed lovers. Now, I don't even think she wants to be friends.

Without another look in her direction, I go to my room on the train, locking the door just to be safe. I don't want Katniss coming in here demanding to sleep with me because she feels lonely or her nightmares are bothering her. It's no use pretending I don't still care about her. Nothing can change how much I love Katniss Everdeen, not even how much she has lied to me. But I do admit I'm really angry at her. She can't expect me to just move on with my life knowing that how she treated me in the arena was an act. An act that I fell for.

I take off the Capitol clothes and look around in the drawers for something more suitable. I don't like associating myself with the people of the Capitol in anyway. Everything in the drawers is too fancy to sleep with, so I just climb into bed. I hear a knock on my door in the middle of the night. I don't know if it's Katniss or not, but I don't care either way. I just ignore it and try to get the first peaceful night's sleep in awhile.

For quite some time, I can't even fall asleep. I keep staring at my prosthetic leg, trying to figure out exactly how it functions. It's such a weird feeling to be missing a leg. The one thing I concentrate on is the fact that when I return to District 12, everything will be semi-normal. I'll go to live in Victor's Village, continue my work at the bakery and participate in the Victory Tour. After that, I'll just have to mentor two kids from our District every year to their deaths. The only problem is that I'll have to work with Katniss on this.

I've always dreamed of ending up with Katniss. It had been no secret to my family either. My two brothers, Morrison and Jamie, had always complained about how much I said about her. Jamie sometimes gave me advice. He told me before the reaping, in which we were both chosen as tributes, that I should talk to her and introduce myself, but I never got the chance.

Instead of speaking with Katniss, I was now forced into an arena to kill her (not the most desirable of conditions to proclaim your love for someone). Of course, right from the start, she didn't trust me, but after it was announced that two people from the same district could win, my hopes rose. I mean, I was stuck in the dirt almost fatally injured, but I thought that it might be possible for both of us to win. Maybe then I would get the chance to follow my plan with her.

That's when she found me. She kissed me. Looking back at it now, I realize what an idiot I was to believe it was true, that she might actually have some genuine affection for me. Katniss was just doing her job for Haymitch. Her job to get us out alive. I shouldn't be angry at her, she really did nothing wrong, but I felt for once in my life that I was experiencing something real. And when she told me it was all an act, my spirits came crashing down. I don't know what to think.

I finally fall asleep rather late in the night. I don't have a very peaceful night's rest as planned. Instead, the night is mainly made out of thinking, processing what had happened in the Games. When I wake, I take a long shower during which I do some more thinking. Eventually, I'm forced to put on the dreaded Capitol clothes.

I meet up with Haymitch as I leave my room.

"Peeta, you feeling better?" he appears sober, but sometimes it's hard to tell.

"Yeah," I lie. I feel awful. I can barely walk with this new leg.

"I think you should stay in bed. Maybe rest up a little," he tells me.

"I was just going to get breakfast," I say. I think Haymitch is still recovering from the Games just as much as I am. This must be huge for him. Over the past twenty three years, Haymitch has done nothing but mentor two children to their deaths. This year, however, not only did one tribute come out alive, they both did. Publicity must be as big on him as it is on Katniss and me.

"Alright," he gives in, "but when you're done, go back and rest. You have to be ready for the cameras tomorrow."

"Ok," I mumble as I continue down the hallway of the train.

I take note of the time and realize it's too early in the morning for Katniss to be awake. She is probably exhausted by the Games and would sleep in. I'm just the opposite. When I'm exhausted, I feel more wired on the inside and this keeps me from closing my eyes, making my brain extremely active. I figure I don't want to see Katniss anyway. I'm still recovering from a very quiet emotional heartbreak.

I slap some scrambled eggs onto a plate as I reach the cafeteria. They look quite runny, something I always try to avoid, but everything else just looks worse. The toast is burnt and the sausage is _way_ over cooked. So, eggs it is.

"Eh, is that all you're gonna eat, Mr. Mellark?" a boy with an Irish accent, who looks to be about eighteen, calls over to me.

"I'm not that hungry," I lie again, this time, accompanied with a small smile to show my appreciation for the runny eggs.

"Where you going?" he asks as I turn to leave.

"Back to my room. I'm very tired," I explain.

"Oh. Well, give Katniss a kiss for me!" he chuckles heartily.

I don't reply. How could I reply to that? Katniss and I won't be kissing for six months. And when we do kiss again, there will be no feeling in it like the way I experienced it before. There will be no feeling of authenticity. Instead, it will be hollow, shallow, just another part of a plan to keep us alive.

The day passes by very slowly. I do nothing but eat, think and draw. Luckily, my room had been provided with a small notepad and pen. I sketch out photos of Katniss. One particular sketch I like is just her hand. Inside of it are the berries that saved our lives. I consider showing these photos to her, but I catch myself, thinking of how she doesn't really care about me.

I have another night of unpleasant sleep. In the morning, Haymitch comes to my room to announce that we are arriving in District 12. It's very early for us to be here already. The speed of this Capitol train is so fast that it almost seems unreal. I quickly get dressed as Haymitch goes to get Katniss.

We are pulling into the station as I see her. She looks so uncertain, almost as if she regrets the way she treated me. When Katniss turns to look at me, I can tell that she has done some thinking about me. I'm not sure how much, but it's evident. I don't make eye contact with her. I just nod in her direction, acknowledging her presence. I don't want her to know I've been thinking about her, so I make sure my face shows no emotion. Instead, we both stare out the window of the train until it comes to a stop.

I think that the people outside are expecting a happy couple. I reach my hand out to hers.

The look she gives me demands an explanation.

But I don't really give her one. I blankly say to her, "One more time? For the audience?"

Slowly, I feel her fingers slip into mine. My heart throbs in its familiar way. Her grip on me is very tight. I guess she needs some sort of security. I give her nothing in return.

The doors to the train slide open and the cameras take many pictures. I'm only able to smile slightly. On any other day, I might have been able to play this 'act' perfectly. But Katniss has shattered my heart. She looks at me and says in a small voice, "Smile."

For once, I can't do what she wants me too. I feel like the ability to smile has been stolen from me by some heartless robber. That robber would be Katniss. I try to forgive her again and again. The sensible part of me keeps saying that it was just an order she was given. She did what she had to do. But the part that controls my smile muscles feels hurt.

Then I see my mom and dad. I let go of Katniss' hand, who seems surprised to have me leave her. My father gives me a great hug and my mother looks happy (that's really saying something.) Jamie and Morrison are also there. Jamie, who is eighteen now, is the first to embrace me.

"Peeta!" he releases me from his hug and shakes my hand. "Great to have you back!"

Even Morrison, my oldest brother who is about twenty, gives me a hug. Morrison is very moody most of the time. He usually works in the back of the bakery by the furnace, keeping away from everyone. Jamie will occasionally pester him to get him to have some fun, but he never gives in any more than a small smile. Also, he never laughs.

Jamie is almost Morrison's opposite. Jamie spends most of his time living in a carefree way. He likes socializing and sitting around, observing nature. He's also something of a joker. He always has a joke for any occasion. Jamie's goal in life is to get Morrison to crack his outer shell. He keeps saying that all "Old Morrie" needs to do is find a girl.

Katniss never leaves my thoughts, but my family distracts me in a way. We have a nice reunion for a few minutes before the camera men ask Katniss and me for a few shots together. I see Katniss is talking to Gale.

I can't pretend I haven't noticed them together. They always are with each other all the time. I often see them selling game in the Hob. It has crossed my mind that they were a couple, but I've never really seen them act like one in front of me. So, I came up with the conclusion that they are very good friends.

Gale is perhaps the most popular boy in the Seam. It seems like all the girls at school talk about him. Most of them bicker over who Gale likes better. It's completely pointless though, because I think it's quite obvious that Gale likes Katniss better than any other girl at our school. But, as usual, Katniss is blind to love until it smacks her in the face.

When Katniss and I get back together, the photos are taken and someone calls out for a kiss. Soon there is chanting from almost everyone but our families. "Kiss her!" an annoyingly loud lady calls out to me. "Give her something to think about!"

Katniss does not need anything to think about, but I simply can't turn the audience down on this opportunity. I look at Katniss and her expression is slightly doubtful. I'm not sure what she doubts. Maybe me. Maybe the citizens. Maybe it doesn't even have to do with what is going on right now. Perhaps it has to do with something Gale said.

But I don't want to disappoint the crowd. I kiss her cheek swiftly and she tries to smile. However, she must be in the same state I was in earlier. Something has robbed her of the power to smile. It always happens from somewhere deep inside of you. Something is going wrong with Katniss. My Katniss.

"Aww… come on! That wasn't a kiss!" the same obnoxious lady says.

Katniss turns away from me and looks at the lady, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, it was," says Katniss.

"I'd like to see a real kiss," says a man with a camera. "We can record it!"

"Yeah!" people from the audience start to agree. Why must everyone love the star-crossed lovers? It will only be a matter of time before the people in our District realize that this was all an act, that Katniss doesn't really love me in any shape or form. But with the cameras, I can't just say we don't want to kiss. Heavens, no! That would be preposterous. What couple doesn't want to be recorded when they are kissing in front of all the people they've known since they were born?

Before Katniss can say anything, I put my hand behind her head and kiss her. Just as I suspected, the feeling is hollow. There is no emotion in her anymore. Not that there ever was. After a good five seconds, she breaks away from me. Hopefully this will do.

Thankfully, it does. The cheers continue as she goes back to her family, heading towards Victor's Village. My family and I follow them. Haymitch leads us. There, I get the first real glimpse of my new home. It really is very nice, a large step up from my family's small apartment above the bakery. There are freshly planted flowers all in a row along the path to the door. Katniss enters her home first. Then, I go into mine.

I'm swept away from the simple beauty of the house. As soon as you walk in, there is a staircase. To the left is the living and dining room. I go up the stairs and find the bedroom. The room is majestic. The bed so elaborate. The bathroom so fresh and modern. The only thought that goes through my room as I take this tour is that this house is not me. It is what the Capitol is trying to make me. I know that they're still trying to manipulate me even though I'm out of the Games.

My mother really wants to stay at this house, but my father insists I have my space. Jamie and Morrison wouldn't mind staying here either, but are just as happy in their old home at the bakery. They give me some more hugs and a few words of encouragement before turning to leave, saying I need some time alone.

I do need some time alone, but what I need more is some time with Katniss. Now, I doubt I will ever get even that.

**A/N: So, this was a trial chapter of Peeta's POV for Catching Fire. Let me know if you like it and if you want to see it continued. Thanks!**


	2. 2

**A/N: I've decided to continue this, but I will only update it when I have time to work on it unless alot of people show interest. Anyway, please enjoy Chapter Two.**

(2)

At four o'clock in the morning, I roll over in bed and feel warmth seep into my pores. It's another hot summer day in District 12. I pull the sheets away from my body, exposing my bare chest. Slowly, I sit up and get out of bed, flipping on the ceiling fan as I do so. I fix the bed so that it looks almost as nice as when I first saw it, carefully replacing the comforter and expensive pillows. I have the mind to burn them.

I head over to the bathroom and take a shower, which cools me down a little. Then, in my head, I think about what I have to do today. Pulling on some clothes that have been left in my closet, I leave for the bakery.

The bell attached to the top of the door announces my arrival. "Good morning Peeta!" Jamie calls.

"Good morning," I say. I've noticed over the past few days how extremely tired I am, even if I get a lot of sleep. Hopefully this will improve as time goes on.

"Alright, get baking!" Jamie says, handing me a list of my tasks. Mother always manages to keep us on task by creating these lists for us to follow. She writes them out every night before she goes to sleep. Occasionally, she'll have to change them to fit the needs of our customers, but most of the time, the lists keep her out of our way, which I happen to like. I love my mother, but she really can be a pain in the neck sometimes, following you around to make sure you bake the bread to a certain degree and don't put too much of this or too little of that. It can get extremely annoying.

I take a look down at my list. Mother says as soon as we finish our duties, we can go do whatever we want. She doesn't understand it doesn't happen that way. Jamie usually does half his work in the morning and then he takes a break. He'll come back around mid-day and do another quarter, and then he'll leave to not return for the rest of the day. Morrison tends to pick up his slack, but Jamie gets a beating from his older brother every day. Not a real beating, only mom beats us, but a strong reprimand that will keep Jamie quiet until the next day. This is why he doesn't talk at dinner.

Surprisingly, my list is quite short. Maybe somewhere deep inside my mother has a bit of sympathy. Perhaps she'll give me a break for a few days from the really hard tasks. After all, I did just get my leg amputated and was nearly killed by blood-thirsty muttations. Surely I can't be expected to be picking up our loads of flour.

"Morrison," I acknowledge my brother as I walk to the back of the bakery. He's rolling dough. Morrison is very strong, so he tends to do most of the jobs that require strength. Mom leaves me to the delicate work because I'm good with my hands. As for Jamie, he does the easy stuff no one else has time to do. My father switches out shifts with me most of the time. He sleeps in pretty late and then works the store for awhile before heading to the back so I can tend the cash register. I normally don't get a lot of business because most people buy their bread in the morning. It can get pretty boring most of the time.

"Peeta," he nods at me, hardly glancing up from his work. I wash my hands and put on an apron.

"How's your girlfriend?" Jamie teases me.

"Do you seriously have to do this to me?" I ask him.

"Yeah… You want me to go easy on you because you just survived the Hunger Games? Holy wow, Peeta. You survived the Hunger Games!" Jamie runs over to me and pretends to put a microphone to my mouth. "How does this make you feel?" He laughs in my face.

I roll my eyes at him and Morrison hollers over, "Jamie, get back to work!"

"Jeez, the boss gets angry so quickly…" says Jamie, acting like he's scared of Morrison. I know he isn't.

"She's not even here yet!" I retort, clearly to annoy him.

"Oh, you know who I mean." It's his turn to roll his eyes at me. He turns away to get back to his work, flashing me smiles every time our eyes meet.

"So, seriously Peeta, how'd you enjoy your nights in the cave?" Jamie raises his eyebrows at me and laughs.

"They were nice," I reply.

"Nice? Is that the best adjective you can think of?" Jamie raises his voice.

"How about wonderful?" I try again.

"Eh, too commonly used. I was going to call 'em…"

"JAMIE! Shut up and work!" Morrison cuts Jamie off.

"Ok, Old Morrie…" Jamie and I exchange glances, laughing on the inside.

"I told you not to call me that…" Morrison threatens, stopping his work to look at Jamie.

"This explains why you don't have a girlfriend. Do you want my help or not?" asks Jamie.

"Help? I don't need help with my relationships!"

Jamie and I both cover our grins.

"I just think you're a tiny bit too hostile for the ladies…" Jamie cracks a smile.

Morrison starts to walk over to Jamie, fists clenched. "Hostile? I'll show you hostile—"

"Good morning boys!" My father walks into the room just on time.

"Good morning Dad," I say turning around.

"Early morning Pops," Jamie says, relieved that Morrison can't beat him to a pulp in the presence of our father.

"Yeah…" he agrees. "I wanted to see my boy Peeta. Come over here!"

I run over to my father and he gives me another hug.

"How about you tend the cash register this morning? Won't be as boring," he says.

"Mom said I have to make the cinnamon rolls today," I say, pointing to the list.

"Oh, that's easy! I'll do it!" Jamie surprises me by seeming so eager to make cinnamon rolls.

"Well there you go," my father says. "Jamie will make your rolls and you can go interact with the neighbors. I'm sure you'll bring in lots of customers."

"Thanks," I say, heading to the front. It's a little early (we usually open at five) but I turn around the sign that says we're closed. Then the first smell of the morning enters my nose. Every day, I live for that first smell, the smell of the first batch getting cooked. Soon enough, Morrison brings in a dozen loaves of challah bread. Challah bread is actually one of my favorites. As soon as the first batch is done, several more follow. Jamie contributes lots of muffins and my father stocks the shelves with potato, pumpernickel, and yeast bread. My mother makes her first appearance around quarter after five when the first customers are coming in. With her comes snickerdoodles, black and white, chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies.

"Peeta!" The butcher's son, Florinn Poystorm, rushes over to me. He's a good friend of mine. Our families, both being merchants, get together occasionally, hence our friendship.

"Good morning, Florinn," I smile at him as he comes over to me.

"Gosh, it's good to have you back," he gives me a hug.

"It's good to be back. Now what can I get you?" I ask him.

"Tolliver is sick. Mom just told me to get a warm loaf of bread. It should help cheer him up," Florinn explains.

"He's sick again?" Florinn's little brother, Tolliver, is sick almost all the time with the flu or a cold. Apparently he has some severe condition. I'm not sure what it's called though.

"Yeah," Florinn says with a sigh. "Anyway, just some white bread would be fine."

I wrap up a loaf for him and he hands me some bills. I take them and ring up the register. "Will that be all?" I ask in my professional voice.

"Yes," he replies with a smile.

"Here's your change," I hand him back more bills. With Tolliver sick all the time, their family shouldn't need to pay for a loaf of bread. If my mother finds out, what can she do about it? She won't beat me and she certainly can't beat Florinn, so I hand him more money then he gave me.

He looks at the money and immediately says, "Peeta, I think you counted wrong." He then hands the cash back to me.

I look him in the eye and say, "No. I didn't," forcing him to take it.

He doesn't really know how to react. So he takes his bread and money, turning to leave. Just as he turns the handle of the front door, he calls back to me, "Thanks, Peeta."

"No problem, Florinn. See you soon!" The door closes behind him.

Business really starts to pick up at seven. Jamie comes by to help me with the register for an hour or so while my father and Morrison are busy in the back. I'm selling quite a few loaves to an elderly gentleman when a young lady walks into the store. Jamie, who'd been counting money in the register, drops what he's doing and grabs a cinnamon roll off the rack. I finish my current transaction and watch him "work."

"You see this roll?" he says, holding it out to her. "I made it myself especially for you."

Ah, this explains the eagerness. But who is this girl?

"Mmmm…" she says, taking the roll from his hands and holding it to her nose. "Jamie, it smells delicious! Thank you."

"You're welcome. So, do you have a date to the celebration tonight?" he continues.

"I do not!" she says giving him a wide smile.

"How'd you like to come with me?"

"Oh… I'd love to!"

Jamie laughs. "Alright then! I'll pick you up at six."

"Ok," she says. She walks up to me and tries to hold back a smile as Jamie bumps me out of the way.

"May I please have two cranberry muffins?" She rummages around in her bag for some money, but Jamie is fast.

"Here you are, my lady. Two cranberry muffins for you and your mother," he hands her a bag and some napkins.

"Oh, Jamie, this is lovely, but I really must pay you," she says, continuing her search.

"No, I insist. Have a nice day!"

"Alright... See you later!" she says, giggling to herself as she leaves the shop.

"I made those muffins too!" he calls after her, but she is already gone.

"What was that?" I ask Jamie, who is in a daze, head against the counter.

"Isn't she pretty, Peeta?" Jamie laughs, "Pretty Peeta. You're a really Pretty Peeta."

"Jamie, that's not funny."

"She's a real Pretty Peeta," he teases.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. A real Pretty Peeta. Now, explain," I demand.

Jamie drifts off to the back of the shop. I'm about to follow him when the shop's bell rings.

"Good morning," I say before I turn around. When I do, my heart nearly stops. It's Gale Hawthorne and he's standing at the door, feet rooted to the spot.

"Peeta." His face is hard and emotionless. I attempt to mimic his expression.

"Gale." I say.

"Oh, you do know my name? I guess you care more about Katniss than I thought."

I ignore this comment and say, "What can I get you?"

"I didn't come here for bread, Peeta. I came here to talk to you," he glares at me. Nice guy.

"Ok…" I say, sitting down at the register.

"Katniss and I have been friends for four years," he begins.

"That's a long time," I say.

"Don't cut me off," Gale comes closer to me. "I just don't want you touching her anymore, ok? She's a great girl and I'm sure she hates all of this public attention that you had to throw upon her."

I decide to cut him off again, "Gale! She was going to die without sponsors! You should be grateful that she's alive, not coming here to tell me to back off. I think I know my place with her. She wants nothing to do with me."

"That's not what she told me last night. She said she was confused about what she wanted," Gale trails off.

"Oh."

The shop's bell rings and a woman with two small children comes in.

"Just be careful," Gale says to me as he leaves.

Be careful? Careful of what? Suddenly I'm afraid that Gale might do something to me.


	3. 3

**A/N: Hey everyone! Flying Sparks is over, so now I'll be working on Holding Flames. Only one chapter this week because I'm going on a mission's trip. Please enjoy!**

**-on a side note- I've submitted Flying Sparks for the Countdown to Mockingjay Contest. It would mean a lot to me if you could take a few seconds to go to this link below and vote for my story. Thanks so much :D**

http : / / sites . google . com / site / countdowntomockingjay / vote-for-favorite-complete-story - of course, no spaces :)

(3)

_Confused about what she wants._ The same words keep repeating in my head. I know it's foolish of me to believe that this may mean I have a chance with Katniss, but I can't stop myself from thinking about it. What does she want?

The day passes slowly and the flow of customers comes to a halt. At five in the afternoon, my father tells me I can stop working for the day. Jamie has long since left the shop, headed to who knows where. I take off my apron and hang it on the rack, waving goodbye to Morrison who just huffs in response. I step out of the shop and soak up the heat of the sun. The heat hits me in a wave and I miss the air-conditioning of the bakery.

"Peeta!" a voice calls from a distance. I see a girl running towards me and as she approaches, I almost groan.

Sabrina, another merchant's daughter, has been somewhat of a friend to me for three years. A few months ago she came crying to me about her virginity, practically begging me to take it. So I did one spring evening. I regret it now because I don't love her and I can hardly believe she has feelings for me. None the less, I sense an awkward conversation approaching. As years of our schooling come to an end, the adults generally start to prepare us for "the start of our lives." Most of it is rather formal. Most people are matched together rather than having a free choice. Maybe Sabrina became aware that she was the only girl I talked to (and it wasn't because I liked her). Maybe deep inside, she pictured us together. Of course, I never wanted this, never even thought about my future more than a few days in advance.

She reaches me, her straight, shoulder-length brown hair rumpled and her dark brown eyes wide. Sabrina stares at me for a few seconds before opening her arms. I look at her and hesitate for a split second. She yells "Peeta!" and opens her arms wider.

I give in and let her hug me. Her hair smells like strawberries and it overtakes every other scent in my system. "Sabrina," I say with little enthusiasm, letting her go.

"I cannot believe you are still alive!" she says. "What a miracle that _you_ of all people could survive the Hunger Games!"

I forgot to mention the fact that Sabrina constantly abases me. It gets rather annoying, but after all these years, I've just grown used to it, even begun to believe that it could be true. "Yeah, I know. Believe me, I was surprised too," I tell her. What I say is true. Even though I'm getting over what has happened between Katniss and me, I'm still completely shocked that I have survived our nation's most devastating tragedy, also known as the Hunger Games.

"I think the only reason you did make it out alive is because of that Katchip girl, eh?" Sabrina comments, punching my arm.

I feel like hurting her at this point. Katchip girl. Her ignorance of the name belonging to the woman I am so desperately in love with works itself deep inside of me and tears at my very soul. "Yes, I suppose," is all I can say in response to her.

"Hey, just don't be getting too close to 'er. It looked to me as if you kinda liked 'er! Of course, I know ya don't," she says, wrapping her arms around my stomach. I feel the need to detach her fingers from me. In just a few moments she is working on my every nerve.

"Yeah," I mumble.

"Speaking of that same topic- Peeta, I need to talk to you someplace quiet… alone," she adds, her eyes darkening.

"Alright," I say without thought.

"Come with me!" Before I know what's happening, Sabrina is pulling my arm and leading me outside of town. I look at the familiar buildings I have missed while I was gone. I glance around us, hoping that nobody sees Sabrina dragging me across the square. She finally stops in a grassy meadow.

I'm grateful when she releases me. She smoothes out her skirt and lays her whole body onto the grass, making the effort to straighten her clothes completely pointless. She runs her fingers through her hair. I stand awkwardly above her. Before I know it, she pulls me down to the ground with her. I take in some heat from the sun before she leans over in front of me and blocks the light.

"When you were gone," she begins, "I didn't feel like living."

My eyes roll internally. I really don't need to deal with this right now. "Oh really?" I ask, the disinterest in my life obvious.

"Yes!" she swoons, oblivious to my apathy. "I know this is crazy, but I want to be with you forever, Peeta."

It takes two seconds to click in my head. She thinks she has an intimate connection with me that I don't have with any other girl. She knows that since I won the Hunger Games, I'll be famous. Then there's the added bonus of all the money I'll have and the wonderful home in Victors Village. She has no real interest in me. I'm willing to bet money that she figured that much out in her head.

Here's what she doesn't know: I never intend to have an intimate connection with anyone but Katniss. I don't care at all about my fame. I'll probably use most of the money to improve the bakery and I may not even end up living in the new house in Victors Village because I'll miss my home and family. She doesn't know that I have no interest in any one except Katniss. Never have, never will. That's just simply how my life is.

"Sabrina," I say gently, "I don't feel the same way."

She takes a small breath and then exhales slowly, showing a bit of hesitation as to how to respond to this flaw in her plan. "Well, maybe I didn't say that the right way," she decides upon this as a comeback. "I mean, I want to be your wife." With that, she locks eyes with me and winks. She pins me to the ground with her arms and leans down to kiss me.

I block her arms away and pull out from underneath her, sitting up. "Ok, listen, I know that you probably haven't noticed this, but I've had a thing for Katniss ever since I met her."

"Katniss?" she questions, head tilting. She licks her lips slightly.

"Yes, Katniss. The other tribute from District 12? Oh jeez… you've got to be kidding me!" I feel like whacking myself in the head.

She nods slightly, but this doesn't confirm at all that she understood. "And?" she says, "What does this have to do with us?"

"Did you even watch the Hunger Games? We were playing the role of star-crossed lovers. I admitted on television several times that I was in love with her!" I yell at her.

"Yeah, but that wasn't real, obviously. I mean, there's us," she says softly.

"No. There is no 'us'. What I said was true. I do love her. I always have," I admit quietly and add, mumbling under my breath, "Always will."

Sabrina looks at me like I've just declared I'm adopting a bear and intend to train it. "You think that's even possible?" she says, raising her voice. "Think of your family! She's from the Seam. She probably wasn't brought up right. She _murdered_ tributes in that arena. Do you think that your parents would want you involved with that improper child?" Sabrina protests.

"Well—" I begin with fury, but she cuts me off.

"Besides… this Katchip girl is already involved, I hear. A little birdie told me that she and Gale plan to elope," she giggles at the mention of gossip.

I feel my heart sink, a feeling I've become accustomed to lately. Of course this would make sense. I know they must be whispering about something. Katniss and Gale have always been together. Maybe she feels the need to get away from the attention of the Capitol. I couldn't blame her. The camera crew came by the bakery this morning and my mother had to shoo them away with a wet rag. The publicity, I'm sure, is extremely annoying and I don't see her as a person who can put up with that. And then there's the chance that she really does have feelings for Gale, which would be understandable.

"How do you know?" I ask, submitting to her.

A smirk reaches across her whole face. "I already told you… a little birdie," she answers. "Anyway," she says, moving off the topic of Katniss, something I can never do, "I wanted to make sure that we're going to the celebration together tonight!"

My shell cracks. I stand up, looking down at her. "Are you an idiot? Do you not realize that the only reason I'm still alive is because Katniss and I pretended to be desperately in love? Don't you understand that we have to continue this act for as long as we live now because the Capitol has us under their thumb? Get a life, Sabrina, and leave me alone!"

She gets to her feet and stares me down. "Oh yeah?" she says. Then she makes a very rude remark and gestures at me, something I probably deserved. Thankfully, after this, she leaves. I collapse onto the grass.

After a little while, I get up and wipe off grass blades from my clothes. I'm only walking for a few minutes before a person with a camera comes running over to me and asks if I'm ready for the celebrations tonight. I admit I had completely forgotten about them. After they are over, the elite in District 12 have a banquet, so I suppose I have to get dressed up. The man with the camera escorts me to Victors Village to change into something suitable.

I get him to leave, insisting that he cannot follow me into my house to see my closet. I pick out some fairly fancy Capitol clothes. It's difficult getting into them with my new leg and I don't especially want to wear them, but I have no choice. Quickly, I wet my fingers under the faucet and run them through my hair. I look worn out from the day.

Soon I'm walking into the town square where the crowds have assembled for the evening festivities. I spot Jamie and the girl from the shop earlier and meet up with him. "Hi," I say, awkwardly tapping his back.

He turns around and the girl next to him does as well. She smiles when she sees me. She, I must admit, is very pretty. All of her features are correctly proportioned and her face is rather nice. She has twinkly green eyes and springy brown curls. "Hi, Peeta," she says in a soft voice.

Jamie beams from ear to ear. I notice that he is wearing the fanciest clothes he owns and that he has taken a special effort to comb back his slightly wild blond hair. Mom likes us to keep our hair pretty short. She hasn't cut mine in a while and I doubt she'll be approaching me soon. Panem would probably hardly recognize me without my mass of blond curls. Morrison's hair is always short as can be (he likes to please my mother) and Jamie's is the happy medium between the two of us.

"This is Brie," Jamie smiles, gesturing towards his date.

"Peeta," I say, shaking her hand. Her hand is warm and she squeezes it gently as I shake it. "Are your parents merchants?" I ask.

"Well my mom sells cheese," she answers.

"Cheese? I could have guessed that," I snicker softly. "I guess your parents caught the 'name your kid after your trade' wave?"

"Indeed," she smiles warmly, glancing at her toes.

"As did mine," I chuckle softly. "What about your dad?"

"Oh…" she bows her head. "He left my mom when she got pregnant. I don't know who he is to this day."

"That's horrible!" I say, feeling genuinely upset for her.

"Yeah, it wasn't great growing up without a father, but my mom is always there for me," she says.

"You know Katniss Everdeen?" I ask her.

"Oh, of course! I watched the Hunger Games and all the footage. I know all about Katniss Everdeen," she says, winking at me.

"How silly of me," I realize, remembering now that not every person in the world is as ignorant as Sabrina. "Well, I bring her up because she doesn't have a father. I'm sure she knows exactly what it feels like. Maybe you should talk to her sometime about it."

Brie smiles and says, "Alright maybe I will." Then all of a sudden, I see her eyes focus on something behind me. "Oh my goodness," she says, her jaw dropping. "She looks gorgeous!" Brie exclaims.

I turn around very slowly and immediately see who she is talking about. Across the square is a beautiful woman dressed in a dark red evening gown that compliments her olive skin tone and long black hair. Her simple elegance makes heads turn around her and it's quite obvious that she is uncomfortable about the attention, the attention she deserves.

"Wow," Jamie says, stepping closer to me and whispering in my ear. "She's a real Pretty Peeta."


	4. 4

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait! Guess who got a Macbook? Moi! This means I'll be posting WAY more often. I promise! I posted two one-shots and a story update in one day. I'd say that's pretty fantastic. Well, get used to it. (: Here's the next chapter...**

(4)

Katniss walks through the crowd towards me. The smile on her face almost makes me forget that she has no feelings for me. Haymitch probably reminded her that she still needs to be in love. I'm sure that she is relying on me to put in just as much effort into making the crowds believe it. Again I find that it is difficult for me to feel the same way I did before. I watch her every movement carefully, my eyes traveling up and down her body, remembering the way I used to hold her, the way we used to talk. It's pointless now. Why continue an act that neither of us can pull off?

I push these thoughts aside and open up my arms to her. She walks steadily up to me on a ridiculous pair of heels that undoubtedly were suggested by Effie. I don't know how she manages to walk on them. She reaches me and I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight, trying to get that feeling again, but it is gone.

I release her and she steps back from me, barely meeting my eyes. "Hello Katniss," Jamie says from behind me. She turns to face him and he introduces himself. I feel pounding in my chest, my heart thumping with the thought of her beauty. I resolve to turn around and pull her around me.

I see Jamie raise his eyebrows, feel the intent of people's beady eyes staring down my interaction with Katniss. I hear her breathe in quickly, see her face inches from mine, her innocent look spreading across her countenance. I think I hear her whisper softly, "What are you doing?" I want to kiss her. I feel the fire burning in my soul.

"I love you," I remind her. She doesn't respond, only bits her lip. I wait patiently for her to say something, but no words come, so I let her go. I keep telling myself that if I really love her, I won't make her feel uncomfortable. I won't hold against her anything she did in the effort to save both of our lives. I will just continue to love her in the same way I've done all my life- from afar.

She steps back from me and meets my eyes. I want to know what's going on in her mind. What can I do to redeem myself from this hole I've dug myself into? Will she ever ever accept my love for her or will she always look down on me for the situations I've put her in? I can only hope for the best. I know all chance of the love I'd always wanted with her is gone. In fact, there never really was a chance. She's Katniss Everdeen and I'm simply Peeta Mellark. The two do not mix.

Both of us are called to the front of our town square. Mayor Undersee congratulates us on winning and tells us how proud the whole District is that we have won. He also adds that neither he nor his wife were surprised that I admitted to Katniss that I loved her. Mrs. Undersee says something about how she noticed my admiration for Katniss. I secretly try to remember if this admiration was obvious or if they are playing up the whole love story.

Everyone in the crowd starts cheering for us. The Mayor mentions that Parcel Day will come once a month and that everyone will receive a food package from the Capitol. He also says that there will be a holiday next week with free food for everyone. I see the faces of many children in the crowd light up at the promise of food. I realize then that I am so lucky to be the son of a merchant, especially the baker.

The people of the District are directed somewhere as the Mayor says the Victor Banquet is to begin shortly. I follow Mayor Undersee and his wife and they lead us into their home.

"I tidied up a bit for tonight," Mrs. Undersee says proudly. "The rest of our guests should be here shortly."

Katniss takes a seat and I look for my name card on the table. We sit across from each other. I am at the edge of the table near the Mayor who sits at the head. His wife is at the other end. I glance over to my right to see I've been placed next to Haymitch. I wonder who invited him.

"Who's next to you?" I ask Katniss as she takes her napkin off her plate and rests it across her nap. I watch her lean over to get a look at the name tag.

"Madge," she answers.

Madge is the Mayor's daughter. I don't know her very well, but I've seen her at school and she seems to be friends with Katniss.

Soon, Haymitch clumbers over to his seat next to me and I can smell the liquor on his breath. Thankfully, it is not too strong so I pray that he isn't drunk yet. Madge sits down next to Katniss and I catch her eye. She looks slightly concerned. I wonder what is wrong. Maybe she doesn't like the idea of sitting across from Haymitch. Who would?

Plenty of other guests arrive. I don't know most of them because they are very high-ranking officials. I recognize the Peacekeepers, but their names slip my mind. Almost everyone else there I've never seen in my life. Somehow Effie manages to fit in with this crowd, but I don't speak to her. She sits all the way by Mrs. Undersee and I can't even see her after she sits down.

To call the meal we have next a banquet would be an understatement. Mrs. Undersee brings out dish after dish. I can hardly eat anything more after the soup course. I know I'm lucky to always have food on the table at my house, but it is never this rich, this flavorful or savory. The food that is served is just as good as the meals I ate in the Capitol. I look across the table at Katniss and see she is politely eating her meal. However, in her eyes, I can see that she has the desire to disperse of her fork and knife and attack her meal with her fingers. I know she used to hunt outside of the electric fence. It's no secret to anyone. My guess is that with the help of Gale, her family ate quite well, but I'll never forget that one night all those years ago.

I was in the back of the bakery with my mom. I had just turned twelve years old and she was teaching me how to stick the bread in the oven. She hadn't trusted me enough to do it on my own until I was of age. Jamie and Morrison always bothered me about it, saying I was too young to do this and too young to do that. My mother teaching me to bake the bread was a big moment in my life. Finally, my brothers would stop picking at me for 'being too young.' She was showing me how to place it inside when she heard the clank of a trash can outside. Immediately she went to the back and poked her head out the window.

I heard my mom yell, "Get out of here! Move on you ugly Seam girl! No one wants you around and I certainly don't want you digging around in my trash. Do you want me to call the Peacekeepers on you? I think I will. I'm so sick of all you Seam brats pawing through my trash. Now get!"

I ran up behind her to get a look at who she was yelling at. I recognized the girl. It was her. Katniss. My father had pointed her out to me when I was young saying that he had always wanted to marry her mother. It didn't take long before I knew I loved her. I didn't even have to know her well before I fell for Katniss Everdeen. She has that effect on people. I watched her a little longer after my mother turned around and went back to the ovens. Katniss was looking in the trash, which meant she must have been hungry. I knew that I needed to do something. So when my mom gave me bread to stick it in the fire, I dropped the loaves, knowing that they'd be trash. They'd be trash for Katniss, for her to eat.

My mother's eyes widened and she blew her top off. She was screaming at me. "You idiot boy!" Before I knew it, she had struck me across the face. "Get out of here with this bread!" She removed it from the flames carefully and tossed it at me, scorching hot, burning my fingers. I wrapped the bread up in my shirt and went to the back. It was raining in cold, icy sheets and I remember the rain drenching my head and jacket. I feel like I have disappointed my mother and that, to me, was the worst feeling. She yells after me in the rain, "Feed it to the pig, you stupid creature! Why not? No one decent will buy burned bread!"

I have the urge to cry as I trudged over to the pig trough and picked off the burned parts to give it to the animal. I wouldn't want to give Katniss burned bread any day, but I figured that these loaves may in fact be her only meal today and possible tomorrow.

I hear the bell ring at the front of the bakery and I know this is my chance. I must take that step, that step to show her that I care about her survival, and by a stretch of fantasy in her mind, that I care about her as well. This is my goal: to show her, to keep her alive. Katniss is all that matters at this moment. I don't even mind the ugly mark that stretches across my cheek.

One last time, I turn around to make sure mother is watching, then I throw Katniss the first loaf of bread. She seems surprised by it. Soon, I throw the second. I can't even look at her. I don't know if I could handle her reaction to it. So I immediately stand up and slosh through the mud back to the bakery without even glancing back at her. As I'm icing the nasty bruise on my face, I know that I've done the right thing. Of course, mother probably won't let me near the furnace for at least another year now, but it was worth it. Worth saving her.

This memory comes back to me in a moment as I look at her. She has changed. I, undoubtedly, have changed. It's just the way of the Capitol and how they affect us. However, I know that somewhere deep inside of Katniss is that twelve-year-old girl who dug through trash bins to find food for her mother and sister. She's completely selfless and brave. I suddenly know that all of her intentions in the Games were good. They were went to protect us. I realize this and release some pain out. I know she never meant to hurt me. This comforts me.

I'm not sure if she remembers this encounter between us, but I don't understand how she couldn't. I could have very well saved her life and that's not something people do for you on a regular basis. I look into her eyes as she eats. I am aware that I might be making her uncomfortable so I stop staring at her. Instead, I take quick glances at her whenever she looks away. It feels almost like we are playing a game, Peek-a-Boo, perhaps. Our eyes never meet, only in flitting moments. I feel like she's avoiding me.

I'm grateful when the banquet is over so I can finally get home and think some more. Occasionally, I think that I think just a little too much. For once, I feel like it's a blessing to be alone in a house. Most of the time, I feel grateful for my family and their constant support, but I realize that time alone is what I really need. Time alone to sort out my feelings. I get that time. The weeks go by. The camera crews leave after the celebrations and Katniss stays away from me for good.

So I occupy my time by working at the bakery and painting. It feels so amazing to paint on a canvas. If there's anything good I got out of the Hunger Games, it was the ability to purchase canvases for my artwork. I paint all the time. I paint everything I experience. I paint in colors, shapes, different sizes. Sometimes I feel like the paint is taking the shape and color of a note of music. I blend them together to create a masterpiece. The painting helps me make peace with myself and my feelings for Katniss.

When it's time for the District Tour, I'm ready for her, ready to be her steady boyfriend again, to help keep her on track. I know the Capitol will be expecting Katniss and me to continue to pull off the "crazy in love" thing. I breathe in deeply as Portia dresses me in warm clothing and think about what I have to do. The solution comes easier and simpler then I could have ever imagined. I must pretend I never heard her. I must pretend that she might have feelings for me somewhere. And as I'm twirling her around the snow and she's falling on top of me, I kiss her with an open heart.


	5. 5

(5)

"This is truly delicious," Katniss' stylist, Cinna comments as he munches on a croissant.

I try to smile at him as he makes eye contact with me. Recently, it has been becoming increasingly difficult for me to smile. The District Tour is off and we're on our way to 11. I had been dreading this tour ever since it was first mentioned to Katniss and me that we were required to do it. The idea of displaying ourselves as powerful strong people in front of the faces of the friends and family of those killed in the Games bothers me in a way. It feels wrong.

My stylist, Portia, casts me a long glance. I feel her eyes scan down my body. She seems to be going through a checklist in her head, with her head making a slight upward motion each time she focuses on a different part of me. After a few seconds, she lets out a small sigh, places her fork on her table and looks toward Cinna. "You know, I would have to agree!" she says to him with a smile of accomplishment. She must be pleased with my presentation.

I take a look at Haymitch, who seems to be the only one not participating in the conversation. He was definitely drunk last night, as always, and now he is dealing with the consequences. He quietly picks away chunks of a muffin. I feel sorry for him, even though it's his own fault. Sometimes I wonder whether Haymitch drinks on purpose, or if it is something that he sincerely can not control. I'd feel horrible if it were the latter. All those times I blamed him for the wrong that has come out of his drinking would all be moments of regret if I knew that he was not the one in control of the drink, if I knew he was being forced to surrender to it.

"Did you sleep well, Peeta?" Portia asks me, as she has control of the conversation.

"Very well, thanks," I answer her with a smile. It feels forced, but I don't think that anyone's smiles are truly genuine these days. The Games have changed a little something in everybody. As I answer her, Katniss walks into the room. Her prep team has gotten to her and she appears very troubled. I long to reach out and bring her close to me, wish to be her safety and shelter, to help her with all her problems, but she is distant, as is expected. I want to apologize to her about what I did after the Games were over, when I ignored her. She didn't deserve that.

She doesn't say anything as she sits down and remains quiet as the conversation continues without her. I catch her looking at Haymitch, and try to put myself in her shoes. My only hope is that she isn't angry with me. That would kill me inside. She doesn't seem to be looking at me, even though I attempt to make eye contact with her several times.

She reaches forth and grabs a bowl of broth. Cinna tries to invite her into our conversation about the tour, but she ignores him, twirling her spoon around and staring at the contents of her broth.

All of a sudden, the train stops moving, and Katniss breaks out of her daze and looks up. Effie frantically jumps out of her seat and looks for someone to speak to. The young man who had brought the food out to us takes a look at her in her manic state and tells her that he'll inquire elsewhere. He returns after two minutes of Effie's pacing and reports that the train is malfunctioning or something and they will take at least 60 minutes to fix it. Cinna and Portia both cast glances at me as we watch Effie rip her schedule out wildly.

"Well great, this is just fantastic!" Effie yells. "Now we're going to be late. We should get to District 11 now at 4:30 which means that this will be pushed back. The mayor is not going to be happy about this!" She goes on and on, and I can see Katniss' muscles tensing up. I wish I could put my hand on her shoulder and try to calm her down, but considering she hasn't looked at me once this morning, it doesn't seem she would appreciate the gesture.

When you'd least expect it, Katniss snaps, "No one cares, Effie!" She looks around at all of our shocked faces and I recognize that I'm the only one with a sympathetic vibe. "Well, no one does!" she yells again, before standing up and running out of the car.

Everyone looks around at each other. Effie's face is frozen, finally silenced by Katniss' chilling words, which are still ringing in my head. I see Haymitch is the first to move, turning back to his crumbling muffin, but Cinna, Portia, and Effie all remain quiet, absorbing the silence. Then, an alarm goes off distantly.

"That girl..." Effie says, trailing off. She can't form a sentence. "Where are her manners?" she wonders to herself, not really posing the question at someone.

I take one last look at everyone and then stand up to exit the car, following after Katniss. I step out and find an exit door opened, which must have been the cause of the alarm. I jump through it onto the ground and take a glance in both directions, looking for her. I first head to the front of the train and don't find her, but eventually I cover the whole perimeter, swinging towards the back where I see her, in the distance. I walk up to her until I hear her voice, loud and clear, "I'm not in the mood for a lecture."

I take a seat next to her on the track and say, "I'll try to keep it brief."

She looks at me, surprised, and somewhat relieved. "I thought you were Haymitch," she says.

I take hold of my leg and move it into a comfortable position. In an attempt at humor, I say, "No, he's still working on that muffin." Katniss doesn't seem to respond, so I ask, "Bad day, huh?"

She takes a few seconds to respond, looking off into the distance with her hair blowing in the wind. "It's nothing," she finally replies.

I inale deeply and say, "Look, Katniss, I've been wanting to talk to you about the way I acted on the train. I mean, the last train. The one that brought us home. I knew you had something with Gale. I was jealous of him before I even officially met you. And it wasn't fair to hold you to anything that happened in the Games. I'm sorry."

She stares at me, then says, "I'm sorry, too."

I shake my head and say, "There's nothing for you to be sorry about. You were just keeping us alive. But I don't want us to go on like this, ignoring each other in real life and falling into the snow every time there's a camera around. So I thought if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at just being friends." Deep inside I don't want to be friends. I want her. I've always wanted her. I can't have her though, so I have to settle for less.

"Okay," she says, her demeanor changing slightly. I can tell there is still something on her mind.

"So what's wrong?" I ask.

She doesn't say anything, and instead tears up some weeds from the ground.

I take a different approach. "Let's start with something more basic. Isn't it strange that I know you'd risk your life to save mine... but I don't know what your favorite color is?" I say.

She smiles ever so slightly. "Green," she says. "What's yours?"

"Orange," I say without hesitation.

"Orange? Like Effie's hair?"

"A bit more muted," I say with a smile. "More like... sunset." The color of the sunset has always been my favorite color. I can imagine myself watching it with Katniss, basking in the beauty of the wonderful shades of color.

She pauses to think. "You know, everyone's always raving about your paintings. I feel bad I haven't seen them."

I feel a warm feeling all of a sudden, so I get up and extend my hand to her. "Well, I've got a whole train car full. Come on." She takes my hand and my body feels whole again, as if it has found its other half.

When we get inside, she says, "I've got to apologize to Effie first."

I nod and say, "Don't be afraid to lay it on think."

I wait at the door of the dining car until Katniss comes back. When she returns, I lead her down to where my paintings are. Every step, I get a little bit more nervous for her to finally see my artwork. I tell others that I paint for myself, but the reality is, I paint for Katniss. Everything I have painted expresses my inner emotions, and my inner emotions compose the Hunger Games. They are my nightmares. They come to me every night, haunting me, which is why I can paint them so vividly. After she takes a long look at all of them, I ask her, "What do you think?"

"I hate them," she says, completely stoic. "All I do is go around trying to forget the arena and you've brought it back to life. How do you remember these things so exactly?"

"I see them every night," I admit.

She gives me a nod of understanding, then she says, "Me too. Does it help? To paint them out?"

I think about it. "I don't know. I think I'm a little less afraid of going to sleep at night, or I tell myself I am. But they haven't gone anywhere."

"Maybe they won't. Haymitch's haven't," she says darkly.

"No. But for me, it's better to wake up with a paintbrush than a knife in my hand," I tell her. I think about Haymitch and how he's suffered. He definitely came out of the Games scarred for life. Am I? Is Katniss? It's hard to tell at this early stage. "So you really hate them?" I ask her.

"Yes. But they're extraordinary. Really," she tells me. "Want to see my talent? Cinna did a great job on it."

Even though I have little idea what she is talking about, I laugh. "Later," I tell her as the train begins to move again. Katniss looks out the window as I say, "Come on, we're almost to District Eleven. Let's go take a look at it."

Katniss and I take peeks out of the windows, assessing the District until we arrive. The fields seem to extend on for ages, something I had never seen before in my life. I enjoy seeing the animals, eating away at the grass. They represent some sort of normality and innocence. That's when I see the barbed wire, harsh, unfeeling, restrictive. They have high towers for guards to manage the exits out of the District. "That's something different," I think aloud. When we get to the people, I'm taken aback. They are all hunched over their work, sweating intensely in the heat, their skin a much darker color than my own. The train seems to keep going, and I realize just how large the district is. "How many people do you think live here?" I ask Katniss.

She shakes her head. I continue to look out the window until Effie comes into our car, instructing us that it is time to dress. We follow after her and I get to my compartment where my prep team hacks at me until I look like an average Capitol boy, adorned with a tie in my favorite color, sunset orange. I tuck the card I wrote my speech on into my jacket pocket. Effie gives us one last talk and then we are directed into a gigantic truck. When we arrive at the back of the Justice Building, we are ushered in quickly. The anthem begins playing and we get our microphones clipped on. On impulse, I grab Katniss' hand and she squeezes back tightly.

"Big smiles!" Effie yells after us and we walk out into the crowd. I look at the gorgeous girl next to me and know that we can both be strong through this appearance and that what I'm going to say is the right thing to do.


End file.
